


Just Like Us

by Medrawd



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Camelot, M/M, Merlin bbc - Freeform, bbc merlin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medrawd/pseuds/Medrawd
Summary: When two contemporary guys (aptly named Arthur and Merlin), and who both love the series "Merlin", are having an adventure of a lifetime!
Kudos: 2





	Just Like Us

"Where is it, it must be around here somewhere," Arthur mumbled, frantically searching in his wardrobe, throwing rather expensive hoodies and shirts left and right on the floor, leaving a general mess of things. "George!" he bellowed, impatiently waiting for the butler to silently step into his room, "George, have you seen my red hoodie? You know, the one with the golden dragon on it? I can't find it anywhere."  
"I believe it is in the hamper, sir."   
"Well, get it for me then, and get it cleaned, I need it this evening. It's my weekly Arthurian RPG night, and I can't go without my Arthurian hoodie."  
"Very good, sir. Will that be all, sir?"  
Arthur did not reply immediately, for he was staring out of the window where he had noticed the arrival of a tall, lanky youth with a mob of unruly, black hair, dressed in baggy jeans and a red t-shirt, who was trying to attach a large brush onto a garden hose, clearly with the intent of cleaning the swimming pool.  
"Yes. No! Wait. Who's that guy by the pool?"  
George glanced briefly through the window.  
"That is our new pool-boy, sir. I believe his name is Merlin, sir. I am afraid further information regarding to his last name has not reached me yet, sir."  
"Find out, will you."  
"Very good, sir."  
"And get my room cleaned up, it's a mess."  
"I will see to it, sir." Arthur did not notice the slightly fatiguing undertone, for he was far too busy checking out Merlin, that new pool-boy who was by now very energetically scrubbing the tiles, and a smile was playing on his lips, matching the twinkling in his eyes.

Meet Arthur King. Blond, floppy hair, well-toned body, son and only child (or so they say, it is rumoured there is a half-sister of Arthur lurking around somewhere) of Uther King, entrepreneur and head of the hugely successful Camelot Industries Ltd (" _We can make any table in any shape, as long as it's round!!!_ "). His room, as we saw earlier, was a bit of a mess with clothes and books everywhere, there were posters of The Knights of the Round Table and other assorted Arthurian themes gracing the walls, and a huge, gleaming sword with the word "Excalibur" engraved in gothic letters on the blade was mounted on a wooden wall plaque; and next to it hung a framed certificate telling that he, _King, Arthur_ , had successfully completed a three-day course in basic sword fighting. A tailor's dummy with a mail shirt stood proudly in a corner, with a barbute helmet lying underneath. 

"Hey, you!" Arthur shouted at the pool-boy, who was still very busy cleaning the tiles of the swimming pool.  
"Who, me?"Merlin asked, still attending to the tiles.  
"Yes, you, pool-boy."  
Merlin turned around to see who was addressing him so brusquely, of course totally forgetting to turn off the hose, and thus drenching Arthur with a jet of cold water.  
"Sorry, my friend," Merlin said, lowering the hose, still not thinking about turning off the water supply. The beginning of a smile graced his lips, but he quickly suppressed it when he met Arthur's eyes.  
"Do I know you?" Arthur (who by now was dripping wet, cold and in a foul humour) said in a rather unfriendly tone.  
"Merlin held out his hand, luckily the one without the hose, and said, "Hi, I'm Merlin."  
"So I don't know you. Yet you called me 'friend'."   
"My mistake. Sorry about getting you wet."   
"Yes, I'm sure." There was a dangerous gleam in Arthur's eyes now. He wasn't used to pool-boys, or any other servant for that matter, to drench him in cold water and then be so calm and indifferent about it; and to make it all worse, that insolent Merlin had turned his back on him and had started cleaning again. "I never had a friend who was so stupid," Arthur said.  
Merlin pretended not to hear, but raised an eyebrow instead.  
"Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?"  
Merlin now raised both eyebrows before answering no, he didn't know how to walk on his knees, and before he knew what was happing to him, Arthur had grabbed his arm (the one without the hose) and had twisted it behind his back, forcing Merlin to his knees; while the other arm (still holding said hose) was by now directed at both their legs, soaking them thoroughly in the process.  
"Ouch!" Merlin cried out, "Who do you think you are. The King who owns this place?"  
"No, I'm his son, Arthur. And I can fire you for this!"  
"But you won't, won't you. I'm a far too likeable fellow." Merlin managed to turn his arm (the one still attached to the aforementioned hose) just a little bit, so the water (still rather cold) hit Arthur square in the face.  
Spluttering and coughing Arthur tried to grab the hose and give Merlin a taste of his own medicine, but the tiles proved rather slippery and both boys tumbled rather gracelessly into the pool.  
"Now look what you've done!" Arthur shouted.  
Merlin, however, was unable to reply for he was proverbially rolling on the floor laughing, if he had been lying on a floor that is, instead of desperately trying to keep his head above the water as well.  
"I'll get you for this!" Arthur yelled, and he tried to push Merlin's head under water, who by now was trying to do the same to Arthur.  
A discreet cough from George sounded from the lawn. "Excuse me, sir, but may I inform you that you are expected at your RPG gathering this evening? I surmise you might want to partake in a light dinner beforehand, and change into more appropriate garments."  
Arthur climbed out of the pool and said to Merlin, "We'll talk about _this_ later."  
"That was fun, wasn't it? We must do it again sometime, my friend," said Merlin, still laughing. He quickly snuck a look at Arthur's now naked torso and a smile played on his lips. "Nice abs!" he shouted, hoping Arthur would turn around and proudly show off said abdominal musculature. Then, turning to George, who by now had a very disapproving look on his face, he said, "Jump in, the water's lovely. And I'd better finish cleaning, can't have fun all day when there's work to be done!" With these words, Merlin climbed out of the pool and, as if being dripping wet the most normal thing in the world, continued his cleaning.

The next day and Arthur woke up, had breakfast (toast, marmalade, soft-boiled eggs, tea, everything brought to him by George of course), showered and dressed (designer jeans, expensive trainers, hoodie with the designer's name prominent visible across his chest), and finally looked out of the window where he discerned a certain pool-boy already at work. Same baggy jeans, purple jacket, (and no sign of any designer label whatsoever). Arthur stood there watching for a while before he decided to pay him a visit.  
"Hi Tommy," Merlin said, smiling broadly as he saw Arthur approaching.  
"It's Arthur, you clotpole."  
"Oh, yes, of course. I just thought…," he said, pointing at the writing on Arthur's hoodie.  
Arthur looked at his chest, and then back to Merlin who by now had taken off his jacket, and burst out laughing, for there was writing on Merlin's t-shirt too, saying, "I cannot be fired, slaves can only be sold."  
"Friends?" Merlin said, extending his hand. "At least we now know each other." He smiled as Arthur took his hand and shook it.  
"What's that you're reading?" Arthur asked, pointing to what surely must be a book hidden inside Merlin's tote bag bearing the name of a well-known purveyor of quality books.  
Merlin rummaged through his bag and in his hand came out with a well-thumbed copy of Malory's _Le Morte Darthur_.  
"Excellent choice. I've got an edition that's almost a century old," Arthur boasted. He did that a lot by the way: boasting. He could have said "cool", or "love that book too", but no, he had to boast.   
So Merlin said instead, "Cool. Though it's a bit boring sometimes, Malory just goes on and on and on… Have you read it?"  
"Of course," Arthur answered, still a bit taken aback with the idea of a simple pool-boy reading Malory, "I read a lot of Arthurian stuff."  
"Me too."  
An uncomfortable silence fell as both boys didn't quite know how to proceed with this sparkling literary conversation, but then the silence, however, was shattered ruthlessly by a voice bellowing from an upstairs window, "You, pool-boy! Yes you, get to work immediately! I'm not paying you to do nothing and talk all day. I'm deducting this from your wages, you hear! Now get to work this instant!"  
"My dad," Arthur explained. "A bit of a snob, can't stand servants."  
"Will you show me your century-old book?" Merlin asked as he made preparations to start working again.  
"Sure, when dad's away."  
"Cool."  
"This afternoon?"  
"Double cool. So it's a date then."  
"Are we dating?" Arthur joked.  
"Would you like to?"  
Arthur smiled and Merlin smiled. _Arthur isn't saying no_ , Merlin thought, and Arthur thought _Dad will have a fit_.  
"You, pool-boy, GET TO WORK!!! Arthur!!! Get inside NOW!!!" Arthur's father yelled, having what can only be described as a fit; and a few robins, who were quietly enjoying a juicy worm or two, almost fell from the branch they were lounging on.  
"Later."  
"Later."

And indeed, later that afternoon, with his dad away ("Going to Camelot" he always joked, although the joke had worn a bit thin over the years…), the house was blissfully empty, save for George and an assortment of domestic staff doing what domestic staff usually does on any given afternoon.  
Merlin, still busy cleaning the rather extensive pool, saw the front doors swing open and Arthur appeared in the door opening, beckoning that the coast was clear and that he, Merlin, could enter the house safely.   
"Take off your trainers," Arthur said, "because our charwoman, sorry, our domestic hygiene manager, is very strict when it comes to wearing footwear inside. And know this: you entering this mansion through the front door is a first. Normally, people like you –no offence- are only allowed in the scullery via the back door."  
"None taken."  
Together they ascended the stairway, not unlike the one seen in the musical production of _The Phantom at the Opera_ , only bigger. A lot bigger.  
"My room," Arthur said as he threw open the door and beckoned Merlin to follow him.  
"Wow," Merlin exclaimed as he descried Arthur's mail shirt, and without further ado he walked towards it, reverently touching the somewhat greasy rings, and said "wow!"   
"You don't have one?" Arthur said a bit surprised.  
"Can't afford it, I'm only a lowly pool-boy you know. Do you actually wear it?"  
"Of course!"  
"Cool!"  
Then his eyes went from the helmet on the floor (Arthur's helmet from Merlin, and another "cool" softly escaped Merlin's lips) to a collage of cutouts of several different Arthur's. The mediaeval one that is, not the contemporary one.  
"Cool! Look, there's Charlie Hunnam! Far too much fantasy elements in that movie, such a shame. And Jamie Campbell Bower from _Camelot_ , he was awesome, wasn't he, really to die for. And Bradley James, I've always loved his armour, it was to totally him!"  
Arthur was standing quite close to Merlin now, close enough for their bodies to touch. Merlin could feel Arthur's breath on his neck, could feel Arthur's fingers touching his ever so lightly.  
"You like it?" Arthur asked, but whether he meant Arthur's (the mediaeval one) armour or Arthur's (the contemporary one) rather close proximity was not altogether clear, and he leaned a little bit closer to Merlin, so his designer-clad shoulder touched Merlin's off-the-peg-clad shoulder; and Arthur's blond coiffure touched Merlin's unruly black manes.  
_Don't go away_ , Merlin thought and his heart beat just a little bit faster. He turned his head, and in doing so his nose hit Arthur in one of his eyes. "Ouch!" the latter cried out.   
"Sorry… sorry… sorry…," Merlin said apologetically as his face turned from pasty-white to a rather becoming shade of pale-red, "I'm so doltish sometimes," and his fingers gently touched Arthur's face, stroking his cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. "Better?"  
Arthur nodded, yes, he was feeling better now, much better, thank you, _and please don't stop_. Their faces were coming closer now, their lips almost touching, and then the magic moment was gone, for there sounded a discreet knock on the door, followed by an "Excuse me, sir, but it has come to my attention that your father is approaching the house, sir. I thought it wise to inform you of this fact, sir, so young Merlin may discreetly vacate the premises."  
"Thank you, George, much appreciated!"  
"Very good, sir. And I've taken the liberty of leaving your footwear in the scullery, master Merlin, sir."

Fast forward a few days, and Merlin was still busy cleaning (as I said earlier, it was a very large pool), and Arthur was still gazing out of his window looking (or, to be more correctly, positively ogling) at Merlin who in turn was constantly keeping one eye on the front door, waiting for it to open and reveal a beckoning Arthur. Finally Arthur took up the courage to yell for George, asking him to convey a message to Merlin. Hastily he scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper (made of thick and discreetly marbled paper), shoved it in an envelope (of same) and gave it to a waiting George, imploring him to be discreet, deliver it during Merlin's luncheon so he could read it immediately, and please, don't tell father, and no need to wait for an answer.  
"Very good, sir," George intoned, and he walked at the appointed hour to Merlin, who was by now enjoying his sandwiches and a thermos flask of tea, handed over the envelope, saying, "Young master Arthur asked me to convey this message to you, sir," turned around and walked back into the house.  
Merlin dropped the half-eaten sandwich (chicken, tomato and lots of mayonnaise) onto the grass, tore open the envelope and started to read: " _Dad's away this evening. Come to the back entrance at eight. Don't wave or do anything stupid like that, dad may be watching. -A_." On the outside Merlin was as cool as the proverbial cucumber; on the inside, however, he was jumping up and down for joy, yelling _yes, yes, yes_!, and generally behaving like a fool, all of this still on the inside, mind! He kept looking at the windows, hoping to catch a glance of Arthur, but Merlin had no such luck. Merlin shoved the letter in his backpack, finished his tea, and with a spring in his step resumed his work. Tonight, him and Arthur all alone in Arthur's room. Oh, what exquisite joy was awaiting him!

"I never knew my mother," Arthur said as he sipped some of his wine, "she died when I was born."  
Both sat in Arthur's room that evening. Arthur on his bed (big enough for at least two persons), Merlin on a chair (also big enough for at least two persons), and both were feeling a bit uncomfortable; and from time to time a silence fell, two souls trying to connect but not quite knowing how, and both not daring to express their true feelings. They had, of course, talked about Arthurian myths, and Merlin had admired Arthur's books and his Arthur costume; and Merlin had briefly commented on the perils of pool cleaning.  
"My father went berserk," Arthur continued, "blaming every nurse, every doctor in the country for her death, behaving like he wanted to kill them all."  
"I never knew my father," Merlin said, sipping some more wine (brought in earlier by George, a bottle in a silver wine cooler, with two crystal glasses), "I was raised by my mother in some small village not far from here. And then, a few years ago, I had to leave. There were… issues. I've been living with my uncle ever since. He's a nice enough man, a retired physician, and really, really ancient. I mean, he must be at least seventy! Collects mediaeval medical manuscripts."  
Arthur nodded and drank some more wine, wanting to ask Merlin what kind of issues, but not daring to at this point. And Merlin himself didn't elaborate on this point either.   
"I like wine," Merlin said, quite unnecessarily, for he had at this point consumed over half a bottle already, "and I still haven't seen your old _Morte Darthur_."  
Glad to be talking of something different, Arthur jumped from his bed, walked to his bookcase and took out two small volumes, both bound in blue cloth with gold lettering on the spine, and gently put them in Merlin's hands.  
"Cool!" Merlin said, carefully leafing through the books, and, as he gave them back to Arthur, their hands touched; and they lingered a bit, not wanting to let go, to wanting to break the spell.  
"Camelot is cool," Merlin said, " _Merlin_ is cool." He was, of course, referring to the TV-series of that name, not to himself.  
"Yes…," Arthur answered, and a sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips, "Those knights sure are awesome!"  
Arthur smiled and Merlin smiled as they both gazed at the _Merlin_ poster on the wall where Percival, Gwaine, Leon and Lancelot were staring down at them, faces stern and swords drawn, while Arthur and Merlin stood prominently in the middle.  
"He's so much more than a mere servant, isn't he," Merlin said, meaning, of course, the young warlock standing proudly next to Arthur, "I think they belong together."   
Arthur merely grinned, and thought _just like us_ …  
"Want to come with me to an Arthurian convention this weekend?" Arthur then asked, as he jumped back onto his bed, "If you're not too busy that is…" _Please say yes_ …  
"I'd love to," Merlin replied, "but I really can't afford it." The last bit was a barely audible whisper, but loud enough for Arthur to hear.  
"I've got two free tickets," Arthur said, "and I will be dressed like Arthur."  
"Yes, please, cool!" Merlin said full of joy, "and I have a sort-of-costume not unlike Merlin's."   
Arthur in the meantime had opened another bottle of wine to celebrate (retail price around one hundred pounds a bottle, but he thought it best not to tell Merlin that), filled their glasses and raised his to make a toast, "For the love of Camelot!"

And so, on that early Saturday morning, Merlin found himself standing in a rather long queue, waiting with Arthur to enter the Wonderful World of the Arthurian Convention, aptly named _Enter The Wonderful World of the Arthurian Convention!!!_. Merlin was excited, for he had never been to a convention before, not counting the Annual Convention of the Pool Cleaners Association to which his manager had ordered him to go once, and which had turned out to be a most boring day filled with inspirational speeches (boring…), there were loads of flyers with broadly smiling pool-boys in designer clothing who, according to Merlin, had never seen a pool in their lives, let alone cleaned one; and, of course, those never-ending lectures on _Tiles, and How to Clean Them_ (bordering on brain-dead), and to top it all off, _The Exciting Future of Pool-Cleaning and Your Place in It_ at the end of the day (officially brain-dead…).  
Once inside the venue, Merlin encountered a cornucopia of mediaeval Arthurs, post-Roman Arthurs, Romans, Vikings, Elves, a lost Harry Potter, even more Arthurs from every movie and series known to man; and a host of assorted characters like Mordreds, Guineveres, Uthers, and more Elves. And lots of long-bearded (white of course) and long-haired (again of course white) Merlins dressed in long robes (blue was the colour of choice this year, Merlin noted) and wearing pointy hats with silver stars and moons on them; and all of them were waving wands, and almost all of those wands were adorned with a little, twinkling star at the tip.  
Arthur, of course, had donned his complete Arthur outfit (the one from the series _Merlin_ , including a bespoke engraved pauldron of which Arthur, of course, had to boast), and Merlin was attired in his more-or-less Merlin outfit (also from the aforementioned series, and entirely homemade).  
"We make quite a couple," Arthur said grinning as they posed to have their picture taken for what must be the twentieth time.  
Enraptured did Merlin walk by all the merchants displaying their wares, gawking at all those cool mail shirts and swords and helmets and complete sets of armour. "Eight thousand pounds," he whispered in awe, "that suit of armour costs eight thousand pounds!"  
"Yes," came Arthur's answer as he walked over to him, "not all that expensive, really. Looks cool though."  
"Not expensive?" Merlin gasped, "Not expensive? I have to clean hundreds of pools before I can even start thinking about not being able to afford it."  
"Oh, yes… Sorry…"  
But Merlin didn't even hear him, he had darted off to a stall selling all kinds of clothing, taking an off-white gambeson off the rack and trying it on. "This I can afford," he said, looking at the price tag and seeing that it was now at a 70% discount. There was, admittedly, one buckle missing, and there was a "slight discolouration" (well, quite a lot of discolouration actually), but for Merlin that didn't matter. He rummaged in his satchel (formerly known as "the leather jacket from the charity shop"), took out his purse and counted out the required amount.  
"Arthur, look," he said with a huge grin on his face as Arthur walked up to him, "only fifteen quid. You know, I'm gonna dye it red, and then it will be just like one of those gambesons from _Merlin_!"  
Arthur smiled, glad that his newfound friend had found something he liked. At one point Arthur picked up a spoon, and made preparations to hit Merlin on the nose with it.  
"Are you threatening me with a spoon?" Merlin said, re-enacting one of their favourite scenes, and both burst out laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces. Needless to say, there was a positive queue of photographers recording this iconic moment for posterity.  
"I'll think I'll buy this spoon, it might come in handy one day," Arthur said, as he finished laughing and wiped at his eyes.  
And so the morning glided by, with Arthur and Merlin browsing the merchandise, Arthur and Merlin having a snack (" _Real Mediaeval Hamburgers_ " and " _Chicken Tikka Masala, Mediaeval Style_ " to name but two vendors of sustenance trying to cash in on the whole "mediaeval" theme), and Arthur and Merlin generally having a jolly good time.   
"You know," Arthur said, and his eyes suddenly holding that dreamy quality in them, "this is where I belong. I was born centuries too late. Often have I dreamt about being King Arthur instead of plain old Arthur King."  
"Me too," Merlin said, "Me being King Arthur, bossing everyone around, eating and drinking all day, doing nothing, save for a few jousts from time to time…"  
"Bossing around? Are you saying I'm bossy?"  
"Just saying…"  
Before Arthur could give a snappy reply (or perform the famous "spoon" act once more), Merlin had taken him by the hand and all but hauled him to a garishly coloured tent, with a sign proclaiming that this was the abode of "Madame Morgana, Clairvoyant to all the Crowned Heads of Albion and Beyond", and underneath this message was the painted image of a woman - no doubt this depicted the famous Madame Morgana - with fiery, golden eyes and an abundance of raven-black hair that looked like she had recently struck her fingers in a wall socket, and had held them there for quite a long time too.   
"Do you really want your future told?" Arthur asked, his voice full of disbelief, "It's a scam, you know."  
"I know and why not, it'll be fun!"  
"Let's see. You will get rich, find the love of your life, a tall, handsome stranger will cross your path, you will go on a trip you'll never forget, blah, blah, blah."  
"Please…?" Merlin pleaded, looking at Arthur like a puppy begging for even the tiniest morsel of cake.  
"Oh, very well," Arthur sighed and both boys entered the tent. Inside it was rather dark, save for a few spluttering candles, and it smelled rather strongly of cheap and cloying incense.  
"Come, come," the woman said in the phoniest accent Arthur and Merlin had ever heard, and she beckoned them to come closer. "Sit down, sit down."  
Arthur and Merlin obediently sat down.  
Her hands, with extremely long nails, were by now waving over a crystal ball (with what looked suspiciously like fairy lights inside it), and she was rocking back and forth, murmuring incomprehensibly. Arthur merely looked bored, while Merlin's face was full of anticipation.  
"Two sides of the same coin," she suddenly croaked, "I see a destiny you cannot escape, for you will one day unite the land of Albion. The Dragon has spoken."   
"Nothing about a tall, handsome stranger?" Arthur interjected with only the merest hint of sarcasm.  
"Silence, knave!" the woman snapped, her eyes flying open and startling both boys, "for you may have eyes, yet you appear to be blind." She closed her eyes again, and she continued with more waving of hands over the crystal ball. "That will be two pounds, please."  
"Well, she sure was a dragon," Arthur remarked as they exited the tent.  
"But we are as one, she said. And we're a coin."  
"And a blind one at that."   
"But she was right, wasn't she, about the tall, handsome stranger, because you actually met him."  
"I met him? I don't think so. You met him," Arthur said rather indignantly.  
"I'm tall, aren't I? Taller than you."   
"Yes, but---"  
And I was a stranger before we met, wasn't I?"  
"Yes, but---"   
"And I am devilishly handsome, agreed?"   
"Yes, but---"   
"So," Merlin said, grabbing the lapels of his suede _Merlin_ -like jacket like one of those lawyers one occasionally has to endure on the television screens, "there can only be one irrefutable conclusion then, you've met a Tall, Handsome Stranger, but you are too blind to see it. Case closed."   
"Shut up, Merlin."   
"Shutting up." 

Later that afternoon they stumbled upon a vendor whose stall was packed with all things _Merlin._

Cool!" Merlin whispered, "Wish I could buy everything!"  
"Stop drooling, Merlin," Arthur said, but he too was excited.  
"How much are these?" Merlin asked, indicating two small plastic figurines of Merlin and Arthur.  
"Only two pounds each," the vendor answered.  
Merlin took out his purse, saw the contents of said purse rapidly declining, but took out the required coins anyway, handed them over the smiling merchant, and in turn received two very lifelike figurines, including such accessories as a tiny helmet, a tiny sword and a tiny spell-book. Merlin was enraptured and carefully placed the boxes in his satchel. Arthur too had seen things he liked, and he decided there and then that he was in desperate need of some new rings.   
"Can I try that one, please?" he asked, pointing to a rather large ring decorated with intricate Celtic knot-work, not unlike the one Arthur wore in _Merlin_.  
The merchant of the stall gave Arthur the ring and he slipped it on his thumb---

\---and suddenly found himself in the middle of a large forest. His heart missed a few beats, thinking this was impossible, and he was starting to get a little scared. Then he heard a horse approaching. Arthur turned around and there was indeed a horse, and on it sat a man in armour, a red cape trailing behind him. For a moment Arthur's breath was taken completely away from him, for he knew that man!  
"You're… you're Leon! From the series!" he stammered, "How cool is this!" He was about to ask for his autograph, when Leon said, "I don't know what you're talking about, my Lord. Is everything all right?"  
_My Lord_ …?  
Leon had by now dismounted, and, touching Arthur's mail shirt, said, "And why are you dressed like that, my Lord, like a comedic character in a play. A secret mission perhaps?"  
"No. Yes! Yes! That's it. Secret mission, thank you, Rupert." Still absolutely flabbergasted at meeting an actor (why he so suddenly was there, when only moments ago he was at an Arthurian convention, had slipped his mind somehow), it was at this point that Arthur realised that the language sounded strange, ancient even, as if it was English from another time. Leon himself looked different too, more rugged, more… real in a way.  
There was an even greater look of confusion on Sir Leon's face too now, as he said, "My name is Sir Leon, my Lord, Sir Rupert is still in Camelot. Are you sure you're all right, my Lord? Are you all right? Are you---

\---all right?"   
There was a spectre hovering above Arthur, and slowly he could see two eyes, a mouth, dark hair, a red cross.  
"Are you all right, sir?" the paramedic said, for he was the one hovering above Arthur.  
"Hot…," Arthur whispered, wincing as his head started to feel as if it was spinning.  
"Yes, it is quite hot in here, sir," and he shone a light in Arthur's eyes, took his pulse, and, apparently satisfied, he continued, "Nothing wrong, as far as I can see. A combination of heat, and some dehydration perhaps. May I advise you to drink plenty of water, and have a little rest outside."  
"I will, and thank you for taking care of me," Arthur said as he tried to stand up, assisted by Merlin (in case you wonder, a mail shirt is quite heavy, so a little help in the act of getting from a horizontal to a vertical position is always a welcomed gesture).  
And while Arthur was emptying a bottle of water, Merlin bought the ring Arthur still had on his thumb.  
"You said 'hot' when you woke up. Were you hot or was it that paramedic? As the latter is the case, may I inquire as to---" Merlin very innocently asked, but Arthur cut him short, saying, "Shut up, Merlin."   
Merlin smiled; of course Arthur had meant the paramedic. "Good choice," he said, followed by, "and I will shut up now."  
As the day came to a close, Arthur did not experience any more faints, nor did he visit that strange forest again. He did, however, talk to Merlin about it who was totally absorbed in the tale, and all he could say was his customary "cool…"

The next day at the King residence. Time: luncheon. Protagonists: Arthur and Uther. Atmosphere: a tense war-zone. Reason: Arthur had declared that he had invited Merlin to tea next weekend. Now we must be completely honest, he hadn't actually asked Merlin yet, but that was just a technicality. After all, it's the thought that counts.  
"You did what?! Invited that pool-boy for tea?" Uther slammed down his delicate cucumber sandwich, making said sandwich even thinner to the point where it was no thicker than a sheet of paper. "What were you thinking! He's a servant, a nobody!"  
"I consider him my friend. You invite your friends to tea, don't you?"  
"People like _me_ , yes. Decent people. Upper-class people. Not some uncouth, low-class pool-boy who undoubtedly guzzles beer from a can to go with fish and chips wrapped in an old newspaper, and he chain-smokes as well I would imagine."  
"He doesn't smoke and he likes wine," Arthur retorted, his temper starting to flare up.  
"The cheap kind, no doubt, and probably from a carton! Arthur at this point decided to conveniently forget telling Uther that Merlin had emptied a whole bottle of very expensive wine from Uther's own collection. "And I don't want to hear another word about this, I will not tolerate that riffraff in my house!" Uther's scar on his forehead had by now turned a lovely shade of purple to match his expensive silken tie.  
Arthur stood there with clenched fists, by now barely containing his anger. "I am a grown man and I can invite anyone I like, and I like Merlin, I… I…." He almost said "I love him", but he swallowed his words just in time. That would have been a huge mistake, his father would have kicked him out of the house like a stray dog, and change the locks afterwards. And Uther frowned upon his hobby too, laughing at his Arthurian costume, and mocking him for being a sissy.  
"You are barely twenty-one and as long as you live under my roof, you will do as I tell you!"  
"Fine!" Arthur yelled, and stomped furiously out of the room. Seconds later Uther heard the front door slam shut.  
"George," Uther bellowed, "there will be one less for tea this afternoon."

A few days later after what can be described as the "tea-time" incident, Arthur and Merlin were getting ready to go to an Arthurian RPG gathering. Merlin had slipped into King Mansion via the back door, and - thanks to George - was escorted to Arthur's room unseen. It was to be a very special day, for all the players were asked to "dress up" for the occasion, something about this being their one-year-anniversary. Merlin was invited too, although he had never been to an RPG, and didn't know how to play. "No problem," Arthur had said, "We'll teach you!"  
Merlin was busying himself helping Arthur put on his shoulder armour, closing the buckles to Arthur's exact specifications. He himself was already dressed as Merlin, including a leather wristband he had bought at the convention. Arthur had slipped on his new ring, but nothing happened, he was not suddenly transported to some wood somewhere in back time. A discreet knock sounded, followed by an equally discreet cough.  
"The car is waiting, sir."  
"Very good, George, we'll be down in a minute!"

It turned out to be a very enjoyable day for Merlin. Surrounded by a multitude of different Arthurs, Merlins (most of them again with white beards, and long robes adorned with the customary stars and moons), mediaeval peasants, mediaeval noblemen, and of course some Elves, he quickly learned the intricacies of RPG, with its curiously shaped dice, a lot of different playing cards, a rule-book the format of a decent-sized novel, and a beautiful board for the game-play. Needless to say, there was an abundance of soft drinks, crisps, and sausage-rolls; and jolly banter crackled through the air throughout the day. And, of course, some very serious and lengthy (and heated) discussions concerning the exact value, meaning, and use of a specific card.  
Late in the evening, as the hands of the clock were approaching the witching-hour, and Arthur and Merlin - with their fingers entwined - were waiting for the car to arrive, Arthur was admiring his new ring, and, seeing tiny blemish on the surface, he started rubbing it on his cape, and---

\---they found themselves standing in a corridor made of a light-coloured stone, its walls adorned with banners. And to be more precise, red banners with a golden dragon on them. Merlin gasped and Arthur gasped, and both stood there like two statues, neither speaking nor moving, until Merlin whispered (although "squeaked" might be a better description), "Arthur, I'm scared," wrapping his arms tightly around Arthur's torso.  
"Me too," Arthur answered, looking frantically around.  
Both jumped virtually out of their skin as they heard a noise, the clanking noise of men in armour.   
"Quickly, in here," Arthur whispered, indicating a niche partially covered with a banner. They hid, and not a moment too soon, for there came three soldiers marching through the corridor. Arthur could just see them: guards he recognised from _Merlin_ ; but they did look different somehow, more rugged, more dirty. Their hearts were beating so loudly in their chests, they were afraid the guards might actually hear them; but then slowly the noise faded, and the guards had gone.  
"This is Camelot," Merlin whispered in awe, "this is the real Camelot!"  
"This is exactly what happened a few days ago, at the convention," Arthur breathed. "It was no dream, as I had thought, it was real. Just as this is real."  
"I'm still scared," Merlin said softly, "But how cool would it be to actually meet the real Merlin!"  
"Or the real Arthur," came the excited reply.  
And again Arthur and Merlin (still the contemporary ones) found themselves locked in a close embrace, and slowly their heads came closer and closer together, and then their lips met resulting in a tender kiss, unbeknownst to them that they were being watched by Megan, Gwen's handmaiden, who with difficulty suppressed a shriek and who nearly dropped a basket full of laundry. She watched in fascination and waited until Arthur and Merlin were done kissing and had walked away, then she ran as fast as she could (being hampered by that hamper full of laundry) to Gwen and began her account of events, but she was quickly being interrupted by Gwen who said, "Megan, please, take a deep breath and try to speak one word at the time instead of ten at once." And so Megan did take a deep breath and rattled off her complete account once more in slightly more comprehensible sentences. To her utter surprise Gwen merely smiled and said, "Don't worry, dear, forget what you saw. It will be all right."  
Megan curtsied, hurriedly left the room and immediately ran to the scullery, relating the whole story to Rosalba, the scullery maid, imploring her to keep quiet and not to speak of it. And, of course, Rosalba did tell Audric the spit turner (whom she fancies, although this a totally irrelevant fact), who in turn told Durwin the stable boy (whom he fancies, again irrelevant), who in turn told the rest of the stable boys; and the stable boys, of course, recounted everything to the squires who, needless to say, reported this juicy bit of information to each and every knight.  
Megan also told the trader in fresh fruit and vegetables who happened to bring round his wares this very day. _He_ , of course, told the cook who merely shrugged her ample shoulders and said, "so what?", but she couldn't resist telling the serving staff, but added in a rather stern voice, "We must keep this between us, and you didn't hear it from me!"  
News travels fast in Camelot…

And while the news of " _have you heard? Arthur kissed Merlin_ " went like wildfire through the whole of Camelot, Arthur and Merlin (still the contemporary ones) walked the corridors of the castle, sneaking almost, not knowing where they were going or what they were going to say if they met someone. Then, somewhere around a corner, those ominous clanking noises sounded again; and they looked at each other like two scared rabbits and then started running, hoping to find a hiding place and quickly too. And while they ran, Arthur did not notice losing his mobile phone; the sleek, silver-and-black phone with unlimited Internet access and state-of-the-art camera could be seen sliding gracefully over the flagstones, and came to an abrupt halt against the steel footwear (or _sabatons_ , as those steel shoes are more commonly known) of a suit of armour. At high speed they rounded a corner, only to come face to face with Sir Leon. Both Arthur and Merlin skidded to a halt, but Arthur could not prevent colliding with the knight who with difficulty managed to keep standing.  
"Hi, Rupert!" Arthur jovially said, waving his hand.  
"It's Sir Leon, you jester," Leon said, as he righted himself to a more proper and knightly standing position. "I know you; we met in the woods a few days ago. King Arthur you are _not_ , and I would like to learn your name forthwith."  
Arthur at this point had drawn his sword with the intent of defending him and Merlin (he had after all, as we saw earlier, finished a three-day course in basic sword-fighting), but before he could do anything, his sword flew from his hands, for Leon had, in the merest blink of an eye, drawn his own sword and disarmed Arthur who stood there in utter disbelief. Merlin at this point tried to save the day (and possibly their lives), by saying to Leon, "Sir Leon, you must excuse Arthur. He ate some mushrooms the other day and has not been himself lately. He thinks he is one of those wandering players pretending to be Arthur, hence the costume and the fake, blunted sword. I am taking him to see Gaius."  
"This is not where Gaius' chambers are, as I'm sure you know," and a suspicious frown came upon Sir Leon's brow as he looked at the two of them.   
"Of course not, I know that," Merlin laughed quite nervously, "But dollop-head here insisted to go here, claiming there was some sort of monster he had to defeat." Taking Arthur (who had by now understood what Merlin was trying to do, and tried to look as daft and goofy as he possibly could) by the arm, he led him away.   
"Thank you, Rupert," Arthur said as he picked up his sword (by the blade, to show it was not sharp at all) and clumsily sheathed it. Both boys turned a corner and all but fainted before descending one of the many spiral staircases Camelot seems to possess.  
"Do you think he believed you?" Arthur said, still trying to catch his breath and forcing his heart to beat just a little bit slower.  
"I hope so," Merlin answered, "I really hope so," and he shuddered to think what might become of them if not.

"Merlin!!!” Arthur shouted as he with great strides strode to where his servant was standing, "We were kissing!!!"  
"We were?" Merlin answered in surprise, but with a sudden twinkle in his eyes, "Can't have been much of a kiss then, I don't remember anything."  
"No, we were not kissing---"   
"But you just said---"   
"Shut up, Merlin!"  
"Shutting up," Merlin said as Arthur slapped him across the back of his head.  
"We were seen kissing, well, not us, but by two guys who apparently look just like us."  
"Why?"  
"Why what?"  
"Why dress up to look like us, and then engage in a passionate embrace resulting in the tender melting of sweet lips?"  
At this point Arthur (the mediaeval one, in case you got a bit confused as to who is who) was by now rolling his eyes in utter exasperation, wishing he was anywhere but here. "I don't know, Merlin! And try to speak English." Merlin was about to make some witty reply, but before he could open his mouth, Arthur said, "Do you know what Gwen said when I told her?" and, without waiting for an answer, he continued, "She said, and I quote, 'That's all right, dear, I understand, I've known it for a while.' Unquote".  
"You told Gwen we had been kissing?"  
"Yes. No! I mean--- Shut up, Merlin."  
"Shutting up."  
Now, as you all probably know, Camelot is quite a busy castle, with servants, guards and knights constantly running around, trying to look as if they're terribly busy and/or terribly important; and this afternoon proved no exception, for both Gwaine and Percival came into view, and they both made the sign where the thumbs of both their hands were pointing upwards, indicating they found something awfully wonderful and marvellous.  
"It's about time, isn't it, 'A tryst might be in the offing', I've said many a time, didn't I, Percival,"  
Gwaine said, smiling broadly.  
"Yes, you did, Gwaine. Happy for you two," Percival added, and his smile was even bigger than Gwaine's, if such a thing were possible.  
"We were not---," Arthur started to try and explain, but both knights had already disappeared from sight, only to be replaced by a shuffling Gaius, making his rounds.   
"Congratulations," he said, as he caught sight of them, "I've always known, of course. You can't keep much hidden from an old man like me."  
Arthur was lost for words now, still trying to find out what was happening, why everybody suddenly thought he and Merlin were some sort of couple, including his own wife!, and Merlin was desperately trying not to burst out laughing, and failing rather miserably.  
"Shouldn't the question be who are impersonating us, and why?" Merlin asked when he actually could speak again without guffawing constantly.  
"Every once in a while, like once in every ten years, you actually say something that makes sense."  
"It's a gift. By the way, have you ever… I mean… us two, you know, the smooching thing… thought about it?" Merlin said, looking expectantly at Arthur.  
"Shut up, Merlin," said Arthur as he all but stormed away.  
_But you did not deny it_ , Merlin thought with a smile, and, Merlin being Merlin, he mirthfully shouted for all to hear, "Does this mean I'm your prince-consort now?"  
"SHUT UP, MERLIN!"

A little while earlier Leon, after Arthur and Merlin had departed, had stood there for a few moments, thinking Merlin had told him a very odd story. Very odd indeed, and he decided to go to Arthur's chambers, to ask Gwen about this. Surely _she_ must know if there was something strange and the matter with Arthur. But then again, stranger things have happened in Camelot. He sheathed his sword, walked to where Arthur and Merlin had gone, rounded a corner and then he saw something glistening on the floor. Arthur's mobile phone. With a puzzled frown on his face he looked at it, not recognising what it was (no surprise there as in mediaeval times mobile phones were still a part of the future). He picked it up, turned it around in his gloved hand, sniffed at it, looked at it again, shook it, listened to it, held it up to the light, and finally decided to take it to Gaius after he had seen Gwen.  
Upon entering Arthur's chambers, Leon's jaw almost dropped to the floor from utter surprise, for there was not only Gwen, but Arthur and Merlin also!  
"Yes, Leon, what is it? You look a bit shaken though, no problems, I hope?" Arthur asked, looking up as Leon entered.  
"No, my Lord," Leon stammered, "I just thought… I mean… We met but minutes ago, near the Griffin staircase. You were there too, Merlin."  
"I don't think so," Arthur answered, "we have been here all morning."  
"But…," Leon started, and then his frown deepened. "Then there are two impostors roaming the corridors of Camelot, my Lord, and they look and sound exactly like you."  
"Do you mean to tell me there are two Merlins in Camelot?" Arthur exclaimed, "Poor Camelot!"  
"Is Camelot really big enough for two Arthurs?" Merlin said.  
"Shut up, Merlin."  
"I did find this," Leon said as he carefully took the phone from his purse and placed it on the table so Arthur could have a good look at this most wondrous of contraptions.  
"What is it?" Arthur asked as he picked it up, accidentally touching that small button on the side, bringing the phone to life. Arthur dropped it on the table, took a few steps backwards, and drew his sword. Leon did likewise. On the small screen had appeared the image of Arthur (from the series).  
"What sorcery is this?" Arthur whispered, and very carefully, and with one gloved finger, touched the screen. Nothing of course happened, and slowly the image faded again, as phones are wont to do after a short time of inactivity. Merlin too touched it, looking for anything magical about it, but he did find nothing. The device was dead to him.  
"I think we must bring this to Gaius," Merlin said, "he might know what this is."  
"And I want those two found, I will not allow sorcerers roaming the corridors of Camelot," Arthur added, a determined look upon his face.  
"Very good, my Lord."  
So they all went their separate ways, and it was then that Arthur's ears picked up a rumour, something about him and Merlin being engaged in the act of kissing; and he decided to talk to his wife about this, just in case she had heard it too. Besides, a king does not kiss a servant in public.

After roaming the corridors (and hiding whenever they heard a sound) for what seemed like days, both Arthur and Merlin were getting quite hungry and thirsty, especially when they saw servants bearing trays filled with roasted chickens and tankards of ale pass by. The smell of those chickens wafting through the air made their stomachs rumble even louder, so loudly in fact, they were afraid someone might actually hear them.  
"That must be the kitchen behind those doors," Merlin whispered, as yet another servant came striding from within, bearing even more delicious smelling food.  
"You'd better go there and get us some food then," Arthur said, "I would love to go myself of course, but I'm pretty sure Arthur wouldn't be seen dead walking into a kitchen and getting food himself."  
Merlin nodded, Arthur was right of course. So Merlin took a deep breath, walked to the doors, opened them and strode inside. For a moment, he was absolutely flabbergasted and he stood there like a statue blocking the doorway (not for long, however, as a kitchen maid of a rather robust persuasion told him in no uncertain terms to make himself scarce or else), for there were dozens of sweaty people working in there; and it was awfully hot, mainly because there were several roaring fires blazing away, consuming an alarming amount of wood. Little boys were slowly turning spits with whole pigs on them, a rather fat woman was deftly skinning rabbits, in a corner stood baskets with dozens of chickens in them (soon to be turned into a variety of chickens dishes), more boys were hauling wood and keeping the fires going, a few muscular men (shirtless and dripping with sweat, Merlin noticed), were kneading dough (laced with the aforementioned sweat, no doubt to give it a delicate, salty flavour) in what looked like a trough (and it probably was too), and a baker was scooping baked loaves of bread from an oven.  
"Act normal," Merlin said to himself as he walked to where the loaves of bread were cooling. He quickly took one, and a roasted chicken too, which was conveniently laying there doing nothing in particular, before walking away again. Nobody seemed to take any notice, but when he heard some girls twittering (i.e. talking to each other, and not using their phones to type short messages); he stopped in his tracks, for he heard the words "Arthur and Merlin kissing". He partly hid behind some casks, and the following conversation reached his ears:  
"No really! Megan---"   
"Queen Guinevere's' maid---?"   
"Handmaiden---"   
"Her, yes, she said---"   
"What, what, what---"  
"Well, that Arthur and Merlin were---"  
"Don't dally, tell---!"  
"You know, like, kissing---"  
"With each other?"  
"Yes---"  
"Where---"  
"On the stairs---"  
They started all talking at once now, and cackling like a brood of extremely excited chickens, and Merlin decided he had heard enough. So they had been spotted, and now everybody thought the real Arthur and Merlin were... "OMG!" Merlin exclaimed as he rushed back to Arthur in their little hiding place, a small and very dusty room, forgotten by all but the local mice and a very active and well-fed cat.  
"Arthur," Merlin said as soon as he had closed the door, "we were seen kissing. I just heard in the kitchens. And by 'we' I think they mean the _real_ Arthur and Merlin!"  
"So?" Arthur responded in a muffled sound, as his mouth was full of tasty, yet a bit stringy, chicken. "And you don't happen to have nicked a pitcher of ale, by any chance?"  
"So? Don't you see? Oh my god, we made Arthur and Merlin boyfriend and boyfriend!"  
"We didn't make them anything. I'm sure Arthur will issue a statement using lots of words saying nothing at all explaining it away."  
"Unless..."  
"Unless what."  
"Unless it's... well... _real_... I mean, you've seen the series... I mean... They could be..."  
"Get lost!" Arthur suddenly said, waving his arms frantically, and adding as he saw a startled Merlin, "Not you, that confounded cat! He's looking at me as if it wants to murder me. You were saying?"  
"Suppose they are, you know, just like us..."  
"Oh, come on, Merlin, we're in the Middle Ages, not on the set of _Merlin_."  
"This is all so confusing, it's all so weird..."  
"Can't argue with that," Arthur said, and he threw some chicken bones to the cat, who with gusto attacked the bones as if they were still alive, and continued, "One moment we were waiting for the car, and the next moment we were here, in some castle filled with characters from our favourite series, only to find out they are real and this is the Middle Ages; _and_ , unless this is some very elaborate joke staged by my friends - which I don't believe for one second by the way - we seem to be trapped here."  
"Great...," Merlin sighed.  
"Have some bread, but beware, it's rather gritty, like there are crushed stones in it."  
"Suppose, just suppose, we were to live here for the rest of our lives," Merlin said, glancing at Arthur, "What can we do?"  
"Get out of these clothes, that's for sure. Good thinking though. We'd better find out where they do the laundry and steal some inconspicuous clothes, and get a job I suppose."  
"Great... I'm sure there's a lot of demand for a pool-boy."  
Arthur put his arms around Merlin's shoulders, drew him close in an embrace, and said, "Don't worry, we'll find a way."

And then the inevitable happened: Arthur and Arthur met, and so did Merlin and Merlin; and there, in a quite unremarkable corridor in Camelot, a _tableau vivant_ of two identical twins stood like four living statues one sees occasionally in the high streets of any major or minor city, frozen in time and space.  
_Arthur_ (the mediaeval one, henceforth: med.) _looks different_ , Arthur (the contemporary one, henceforth: cont.) thought, his features were more rugged, more toughened, befitting a mediaeval warrior-king who had seen battle. There were scars on his unshaven face to prove this. His armour, though polished to a shine, was dented and full of scratches: it had seen its share of battle too.  
_Merlin_ (med.) _looks different_ , Merlin (cont.) thought, more seasoned, stronger, and there was a certain madness in his eyes. No, not madness, Merlin (cont.) thought, it was power. The incredible power of a formidable warlock; and he thought he could see some flecks of gold in those piercing eyes. Suddenly Merlin (cont.) jerked forward, for he felt Merlin (med.) probing his mind.  
"He's harmless," Merlin (med.) said to Arthur (med.), "a mere fool."  
Merlin (cont.), frantically searching his mind for a witty repartee, opened his mouth, but before he could utter a sound, Arthur (med.) said, "So you two were kissing."  
Arthur (cont.) merely nodded yes, we were, and Merlin (cont.) squeaked (he was at this point getting rather scared), "Is there a law against it?" to which Arthur (med.) a bit annoyingly replied, "No, of course not. Why should there be?"  
"Stealing food from the kitchens, however, is against the law," Merlin (med.) said, and his mad eyes, now really flecked with gold, bored into Merlin's (cont.).  
"Sorry," Merlin (cont.) rasped, for his voice - or what was left of it – now resembled that of a tiny mouse with an acute fit of laryngitis.  
"Why are you wearing my ring?" Arthur (med.) suddenly asked, "I haven't been able to find it, and now I know why."  
_Arthur is not one to contemplate on a subject for any length of time_ , Arthur (cont.) thought, as he had started fiddling with said ring, turning it around and around on his thumb as if he wanted to screw it off, thumb and all.  
"Blaming me for the loss, of course," Merlin (med.) chimed in.  
"Shut up, Merlin. Let me repeat my question: why are you wearing my ring and how did you come by it."  
"I... I... I bought it," stammered Arthur (cont.), and he felt his face turning a beautiful red.  
"Yesterday." Merlin (cont.) continued, desperately trying to come up with a plausible story, "There was this pedlar, you see, in the lower town, and well... Arthur here liked it, so I bought it." Arthur was by now frantically trying to slide the ring from his thumb to give it back to Arthur, but the ring would not budge.  
"I could have your head for this," Arthur (med.) said, glowering, and his sword was grazing Arthur's (cont.) mail shirt, somewhere in the region of his abdominal muscles, "for we don't look kindly on people who steal from their king."   
"We bought it, honestly!" squeaked both Arthur (cont.) and Merlin (cont.) in unison, voices quivering.  
"Sir Leon has found an object," Arthur continued, the ring apparently forgotten, "a magical object, about this big—" (indicating something as big as a mobile phone), "--and when I touched it, the image of someone looking like me appeared, and then vanished again."  
Arthur (cont.) nervously patted his pouch, and to his dismay found that his phone was indeed gone.   
"So it belongs to you," Arthur (med.) said, "for you are searching for it, yet not finding it. What item of sorcery is it?" Arthur (med.) by now had his sword gliding over Arthur's (cont.) chest area, making Arthur's (cont.) heart beat quite forcefully against his rib cage.  
"It's a mobile phone," Arthur (cont.) answered, being unable to take his eyes off the very sharp edge of said sword that so easily could slice him in two, "you can talk to other people with it."  
"We are talking now, without the assistance of that magical item."  
"Suppose," Arthur (cont.) was warming to the subject now, desperately trying to forget there was a razor-sharp piece of steel mere inches from his body, "suppose you want to talk to Merlin, and he is somewhere else, you can use this to get into contact with him, provided Merlin has one too of course."  
"Why? I yell, he comes. If not, I'll send a guard."   
"You are right, of course. But let's assume, just for the sake of argument, you want to talk to someone in, like..." Arthur was frantically trying to come up with a country he knew from Merlin, "like... say, Essetir. All you have to do is tap the number on the screen and there is instant conversation!"  
Arthur's (med.) face had by now hardened even more, and his eyes were blazing in fury. "The only language Essetir understands is the language of my sword," he growled.  
"Bad example, bad example," Arthur (cont.) said hastily, and his stomach made a somersault as Arthur's (med.) sword touched his mail shirt again, dislodging more than a few rings, "Forget I said that."  
"Perhaps, Sire, this motley fool here can demonstrate," Merlin (med.) said, as he handed Arthur (cont.) the phone. The latter took it in his shaking hands, looked at it and really started to feel panicky now, for how could he explain that he could get no signal in Camelot? Apart from that, he didn't know anyone in Camelot - or in the whole of Albion for that matter - who was actually in possession of another mobile phone. A very uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Arthur (med.) who snatched the phone from Arthur's (cont.) hands, gave it to Merlin (med.), and curtly said to the guards standing a few metres away, "Put the fool who looks like Merlin in the stocks, and throw this panicky weakling in the dungeons. I'll decide tomorrow what to do with them." 

And so Merlin was put in the stocks, just like his counterpart from his favourite series. At this stage he was still smiling, but that didn't last very long, for the assembled mob began very enthusiastically throwing things at him, as was the proper procedure in mediaeval times: fruit (rotten), vegetables (rotten), eggs (rotten), but then Merlin cried out in pain, for there were stones too, and a dead and decomposing rat or two in the mix as well. The crowd yelled and jeered, calling him names (most of them unprintable, I'm afraid) and poor Merlin almost burst out in tears. This was not how it was supposed to be; he was supposed to have a good time like Merlin had in _Merlin_. But then again, this was real, wasn't it... In _Merlin_ , Colin surely was not pelted with an exquisite variety of fruit and veg., most likely the make-up dept. had very carefully arranged stuff that looked like rotten salad leaves on his face, along with some non-toxic and allergy-free goo resembling eggs. It was all make-believe. Poor Merlin, his face was dripping with an assortment of decaying greens and dried eggs, and no one was willing to help him. The stench of the dead rats at his feet, and the stench of rotten eggs on his face made him gag, his whole body hurt, his neck was by now quite painful and cramped, as were his shoulders; and, as the night fell, he was getting more and more cold, and he was pining for his comfortable and warm duvet,---

\---curious as to why it was lying on the floor. Half asleep he reached for it, wondering why there were salad leaves scattered all over the floor and then - like the proverbial battering ram - it hit him. He touched his face and there were even more dried-up pieces of what used to be succulent and tasty tomatoes (organic no doubt) and free-range eggs.   
"What's happening to me," he whispered, and he felt scared, very, very scared. "Arthur, must call Arthur," he mumbled, reaching for his mobile phone. It took him a while to actually tap on Arthur's name, for his hands (and the rest of his body too) were shaking like delicate leaves in an autumn gale, only to receive the one message he didn't want to see: "The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service".  
"Nonononono," he lamented, as he tapped on Arthur's name again and again, only to see the same message over and over again. The mobile phone fell from his numb hands, and Merlin just sat there trembling as he hugged his knees tightly to his chest, unable to move, unable to think, when suddenly his phone rang. Wearily he looked at the screen: "unknown caller". Like an automaton he picked it up, tapped on "accept", and, after a listless "hello" from his side, he heard Arthur say, "Are you all right?"

Now we must rewind time a bit, for as Merlin was being led to the stocks, Arthur was quite roughly being led, "dragged" may be a better description, to the dungeons, escorted by guards, who, in _Merlin_ , were mere likeable extra's, lounging near doors and gates, doing nothing in particular but looking cool. These guys, however, were far from lounging and likeable extras. These blokes were hardened soldiers who reeked of stale sweat and horse manure, with similar manners to boot. Scum, they were, rabble even the lowliest gutter would immediately reject. One of them opened a heavy, nail-studded door, the other one threw him none too gently inside. Arthur fell in what he hoped was straw, and cried out in pain---

\---as he fell out of bed and crashed onto the floor. For a moment he felt dazed, not quite knowing what was happening, being in that moment between sleeping and waking. He wondered briefly why he was wearing a mail shirt in bed and tried to sit up, wondering why his favourite sweets (black and crunchy on the outside, nice and soft on the inside) were lying on the floor (he must have upset the dish they were in as he fell out of bed), picked one up, and made preparations to pop it into his mouth. Just in time he fully woke up and his hand froze in mid-air: these were not sweets. Gingerly he smelled at the one in his hand, then threw it away in disgust. His stomach did a little flip, for he now realised he had almost munched on a rat dropping. _Why are there rat droppings in my room? Must talk to George about that. And why am I still wearing a mail shirt?_ Then the realisation came: he had been at Arthur's court in Camelot, and was thrown into the dungeons. Rat-infested dungeons. And Merlin was… Where was he? Arthur's stomach turned to ice, desperately hoping he was fine. Frantically, he searched for his mobile phone, only to remember he had lost in somewhere in the endless corridors in Camelot and was now in possession of the real mediaeval Arthur. "Must call Merlin," he mumbled nervously, "must call Merlin, must know if he's all right," but without a mobile communication device that proved to be quite difficult. He glanced at the clock, and the hands were showing it was almost nine in the morning. "George," he shouted, "GEORGE!"  
Mere seconds later ( _had he been lurking near the door?_ Arthur thought) George entered, raised one eyebrow at seeing Arthur awake at this early hour not only clad mediaeval style, but being rather dirty and smelly too, and said, "Sir?"  
"Get me a new phone, will you. I seem to have lost mine."  
"Any particular brand you desire, sir, or colour?"  
"No, just get me one and quick. I need to speak to Merlin asap."   
"Very good, sir. I will see to it right away, sir."  
It took George the better part of an hour to return to Arthur's chamber, bearing a brand-new mobile phone on a silver salver. George had done his best, for on that platter lay a very sleek, silver-grey object, polished to perfection. Arthur in the meantime had turned into a nervous wreck.  
"Number, what's Merlin's number...," Arthur groaned in frustration, being quite agitated at this point.  
"I took the liberty of programming the number into this device, sir. You will find it under the letter 'M', sir."  
Without even thanking George, Arthur tapped on Merlin's name. George had even put a photo of Merlin next to his name, but Arthur didn't even see it, anxious as he was to contact his friend. "Answer it already," Arthur breathed after what must have been the sixth ring, and then he heard a disembodied and rather hollow voice say, "Hello..."

Going back to mediaeval times, where on Gaius' workbench still lay Arthur's mobile phone, completely dead now. Batteries don't last that long and there is a rather irritating shortage of decent electricity in mediaeval times, not to mention the complete absence of wall sockets, so there is absolutely no way of charging your mobile phone. Gaius, Arthur, and Merlin all looked at it, hardly daring to touch the sleek metal contraption of what they thought was an object of unknown and possibly very dangerous magic.  
"When the sorcerers disappeared, so did the magic in this," Gaius said, and he prodded the mobile phone with a candle, "I think it's completely harmless now."  
"I think you're right. But I still wonder what they were doing here. I can't help feeling Morgana may be behind this, trying to usurp the throne again. So we'd better be careful and put this somewhere safe," Arthur answered gravely.  
Not long afterwards Arthur and Gaius could be seen walking to the Vaults of Camelot, to deposit the mobile phone safely among all the other magical items.

Arthur and Merlin were sitting side by side on the couch in Arthur's room, a bottle of wine on the table and an assortment of snacks (provided by a well-known delicatessen using only the finest of ingredients) to accompany it, watching the first episode of _Merlin_.   
"Uncanny, how our lives these last few days did resemble theirs," Arthur remarked, wrapping an arm around Merlin's shoulder. "I'm glad to be back home, aren't you?"  
"Yes," Merlin answered, laughing out loud as Merlin was pelted with fruit and veg. while in the stocks (and being totally cool with that), his own ordeal almost forgotten. "We had quite an adventure, didn't we," he said, and he snuggled a bit closer to Arthur.

 _Parts of the dialogue where Arthur and Merlin meet were taken from the original script of_ The Dragon's Call _, written by Julian Jones_


End file.
